


Expanding Horizons

by MademoiselleAbaisse



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Belly Kink, M/M, Smut (Later), Stuffing, Weight Gain (Later), feederism, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:10:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MademoiselleAbaisse/pseuds/MademoiselleAbaisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken from this prompt on the Kink Meme:</p><p>Modern AU. Grantaire and Enjolras have FINALLY started dating. But Grantaire has a secret: he's a feedist (gets turned on by feeding someone else to the point of gaining weight). And Enjolras seems determined to starve himself for the sake of his schoolwork. One night, Grantaire has had enough. He makes a HUGE dinner for Enjolras, and commands him to eat it all. Enjolras argues at first, but gives in because he's too hungry to resist. E ends up with a huge stuffed belly,and they lay in bed and R rubs it for him. But now that he finally has what he's fantasized about for so long, his body reacts. And Enjolras notices the MASSIVE boner poking into his back, and asks Grantaire why, and R crumbles under pressure and tells him that he's a feedist, and explains what it is, and how he's ashamed of his fetish. And Enjolras gets oddly aroused by the idea, and agrees to let R feed him for a month. Cue weight gain and adorable round belly!Enjolras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue (Kind Of)

**Author's Note:**

> *throws and runs* This is my first fic, my first fill on the kink meme, and the first time I'm owning up to my own kink. Pleeeasseee be nice?
> 
> The first chapter is pretty much an extended version of the prompt. Weight gain and smut are to come later. This chapter is pretty much Enjolras starving himself and Grantaire being all embarrassed about his kink, and Enjolras being all "Shit that's hot," etc, etc.

Grantaire cracked an eye open and rolled over in bed to glance at Enjolras, and then the clock. Jesus CHRIST. 2am, and he was still working? “Enjolras,” Grantaire groaned. “Would you give it up for the night and come to bed?” The blonde responded with a tired grunt. “Come on. You’re exhausted. I guarantee you know as much information for your next exam now, as you would in two hours.” Enjolras’s shoulders rose and fell in a massive sigh. “Finals are coming up, Grantaire…if I don’t study as much as I possibly can, I’ll-“

“STILL ace your exams because you’re fucking brilliant?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Come on, Enjolras. You could get by on pure intelligence alone. You don’t need to run yourself ragged studying for something you already understand. Now would you please just come to bed.”

Enjolras sighed again, though this time it was in defeat. He pulled his glasses gingerly off his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright. But I’m getting up early to go over my notes again.”

Grantaire groaned. “You mean earlier than you normally do? You’re going to systematically kill yourself this way.”

Enjolras chuckled lightly, crawling into bed beside Grantaire. “Ah, there’s my cynic. I was starting to wonder where he went. You’ve been uncharacteristically happy lately.”

Grantaire snorted indignantly as he curled his arms around Enjolras, his back pressed flush to his stomach. “I’m afraid I only have you to blame for that, Apollo. Your cynic is always here, he’s just usually too lazy to say much.”

And it was true: Grantaire had been substantially less melancholy over the past month and a half. Because after years of pining, he had finally made his feelings known to Enjolras, and to his utter surprise and disbelief, he found that the other man inexplicably felt the same way. Grantaire had everything he’d ever wanted…almost.

He frowned as Enjolras shifted in his arms, and he felt the sharp jut of ribs against his forearms. “How long has it been since you ate?” he asked exasperatedly, like a parent preparing to scold a child. Enjolras shrugged. “I had a handful of pita chips earlier,”

“That doesn’t count,” Grantaire sighed. “I mean, when was the last time you ACTUALLY ate anything.”

“I dunno, “Enjolras shrugged again. “Like, an actual meal? Last week.”

Grantaire sighed. “Nope. I lied. You’re going to systematically kill ME. You’re lucky Joly’s not here, or he’d be lecturing you on the dangers of anemia or something.”

Enjolras chuckled, pulling Grantaire’s arms tighter around him. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry. Even if you’re cute when you worry. Now would you shut up and go to sleep?”

 

Grantaire acquiesced, but as Enjolras descended into sleep, he lay awake, blinking up at the ceiling. His boyfriend seemed determined to starve himself, and that bothered Grantaire. First, for the obvious reason: He cared for Enjolras, and he didn’t want him getting sick over something as silly as final exams. But Grantaire had another reason, one that he had never spoken of. Since he could remember, he’d had a strange desire that he didn’t entirely understand. He’d known since high school that he’d been attracted to other men, and that fact had never confused him.  
But the dreams he had at night, of swollen bellies and soft thighs pinning him to his bed were something entirely different. He started noticing things that he’d never noticed before- the hypnotic bounce and swell of the bodies of larger men he passed on the street. The strain of buttons in restaurants and cafes that Grantaire was unable to tear his eyes away from. The inexplicable desire, whenever he found himself near a man he considered reasonably attractive, to grasp and knead the excess flesh at his middle, to rub himself against it until he found his release. It took him awhile to figure out that it wasn’t the BODY type that he was attracted to, it was the IDEA of it. The idea of CREATING that. The idea of himself feeding someone, stuffing them night after night, and watching the effects of it week after week. It was the idea of rubbing their hard, swollen belly after feeding them until they couldn’t take any more. The idea of caressing the expanding flesh around their belly, ass and thighs, knowing that HE’D made that, knowing that his partner enjoyed the changes in their body as much as he did. The very idea of it made him feel dizzy with want, with desire, imagining his hard cock poking against a soft, round belly… 

But for whatever reason, Grantaire had never been able to voice his desire aloud. For some reason, he was ashamed of this part of himself. He had taken home scrawny boy after scrawny boy, without complaint. It didn’t mean he wasn’t attracted to them: it only meant that they left something to be desired. And Enjolras, perfect as he was, certainly left something to be desired in that regard, with his chiseled chest and flat stomach. Grantaire loved every inch of him just the same, practically worshipped his statuesque form, but as their relationship progressed, he found himself wishing he could tell Enjolras what he fantasized about whenever his mind was left to wander. What had been his chief desire for as long as he could remember. But every time he entertained the idea of telling him, an iron vice gripped his stomach, a sinking feeling of dread and shame permeating him to the very core. And now Enjolras was practically starving himself, and Grantaire didn’t know how to take it. As his boyfriend, he felt obligated to make sure Enjolras didn’t waste away into nothing for the sake of his studies. But the terrible fear that Grantaire might get carried away in his efforts to help gnawed at him relentlessly. And as he lay awake that night, he tried to figure out the right way to handle this.

 

\---

 

It had been a week since he had last reprimanded Enjolras for his improper eating, and on the day of his last exam, Grantaire was ready for him at the door when he returned home. “You’re done! Finally!” he cried, nearly knocking the blonde over with his embrace. Enjolras laughed softly into his shoulder. “Yeah, FINALLY,” he sighed. “You’re lucky you’re an art student. Final exams are the most awful ordeal.” he sighed, letting his heavy bag drop to the floor. He sniffed at the air. “Did you make dinner?” he asked hopefully. “I didn’t have time to stop for anything on my way to class.”

Grantaire groaned. “Of course you didn’t. Yes, I made dinner. I was going to order out, but I figured we could do that any night. Tonight, we should celebrate the fact that you’re finally fucking done with your exams, after what feels like an eternity.”

To say that Grantaire had made dinner was an understatement. It would be more accurate to say that he had made dinners. He had made enough to feed at least four people, all Enjolras’s favorite dishes. The blonde’s eyes went wide as he stepped into the kitchen. “Oh,” he said. “This is a LOT of food, Grantaire.” 

The artist shrugged. “It’s roughly the amount you SHOULD have eaten this week, but didn’t,” he said matter-of-factly. He just wanted Enjolras to EAT. He didn’t want to feed him. (Okay, maybe he WANTED to, but not now. Not here. Not like this.) Which was why he had elected to make large amounts of Enjolras’s favorite foods. He was leading the proverbial horse to water, and hoping the horse would drink. “You’ve got to be starving,” he prodded gently. “You’ve barely eaten anything for two weeks. Your jeans are threatening to fall off of you, and while I certainly don’t mind your pants coming off at random intervals, it’s not healthy, Enjolras. Please just eat.” 

He sat down in his usual chair, and scooped a spoonful of garlic-mashed potatoes onto his plate. He would let Enjolras serve himself, and he would merely act as encouragement. He couldn’t care less about his stupid fetish right now: He just wanted his boyfriend to eat something more than half a cup of yogurt.

 

It was growing harder and harder for Enjolras to ignore the dull gnawing sensation in his stomach, and he quickly acquiesced, sitting down across from Grantaire, and scooping two pieces of lemon chicken onto his plate. Grantaire tried with all his might not to watch him eat, focusing instead on swirling the potatoes around his plate.

45 minutes later, Enjolras’s ferocious pace slowed, as he felt himself nearing capacity. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had eaten this much…then again, he also couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t felt hunger gnawing a hole in him from the inside out. Grantaire’s eyes flicked over the table, taking note that most of the food was gone. He sighed in relief. He had averted a potential crisis by simply letting Enjolras help himself to the food. The blonde groaned, and sat back in his chair. “I’m done. I can’t eat any more,” he explained, looking to Grantaire with a mixture of discomfort and guilt. Grantaire nodded: he wasn’t going to push him. Lord knows what might happen if he did. Instead, he stood from his chair, and walked over to the refrigerator. 

“I ordered you dessert from the bakery on the corner that you like,” he said casually. He had to test the waters, just a little bit. See what it felt like to coax someone into eating more than they ought to. He pulled out a rather large chocolate Éclair, setting it on the table. “I know it’s your favorite. And I mean... I can stick candles in it if you want, but I figured it would be nicer than a cake to celebrate your exams being over.” Enjolras tried to take a deep breath, but the waistband of his jeans stopped him midway through. 

“I don’t think…I’m not sure I can, Grantaire…” he said doubtfully, looking as though he felt very guilty. And he did: Grantaire had gone through all this trouble for him, and it WAS his favorite, and he felt horrible to decline, and, “Oh, but it looks so GOOD…”

Grantaire quirked an eyebrow. He hardly dared to ask, but he couldn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth. “I heard you say that YOU can’t. But that doesn’t mean I can’t,” he said softly, cautiously. “Do you want it, Enjolras?”

The blonde looked up at him, and nodded meekly. Grantaire tried to stop his hands from shaking as he reached across the table to pick up the éclair, holding it to Enjolras’s lips. “Here,” he said gently. “Take a bite.”

Enjolras did, albeit slowly, carefully. The filling oozed out around his lips and Grantaire longed to lick it away. But even more, he longed to look down and see what kind of effect the meal had had on his Apollo- No. No. He wouldn’t look. He couldn’t. This wasn’t about his own sick perversion. Instead, he patiently held the éclair up to his lips. “More,” Enjolras finally said, barely a whisper. Grantaire held the pastry closer, and they kept up this routine until Enjolras found himself sucking greedily at Grantaire’s fingertips.

I must not look down I must not look down I must not look down, Grantaire thought to himself, looking determinedly at Enjolras’s face instead. “Do you feel better?”

“I feel like I’m about to burst…but yes…it feels better than hunger,” the blonde admitted softly.

Grantaire felt his cock jump at his words. Oh, god, that shouldn’t have been hot, but it was…it also shouldn’t have been hot when Enjolras tipped his head back and fucking moaned, before despairing just how full he was. Grantaire promptly stood and busied himself with the dishes in an effort to distract himself from the throbbing arousal that was pitching a tent in his pants. As he dried his hands on a towel, he heard a faint “pop” behind him, and a gratuitous sigh of relief. He turned instinctively, and he was left reeling by what he saw. Enjolras, one hand still lingering near the button he had just released, and a round, bloated expanse of skin pushing out between the two halves of the zipper. Grantaire nearly fainted as what felt like all the blood in his body traveled south, and quite rapidly. Enjolras groaned again, placing a hand on his distended belly, and kneading gently. He looked up to see Grantaire watching him with eyes as wide as saucers, and he blushed. “I think…I think I need to lay down,” he said quietly, embarrassed. “Come to bed with me?”  
Grantaire’s mouth had gone dry, and all he could do was nod.

 

\--

 

He slid into bed in his usual spot behind Enjolras, and without thinking, wrapped his arms around him. He thought his heart might beat out of his chest when his hands brushed against a large, protruding mound that he wasn’t used to being there. He bit his lip as another surge of blood buried itself in his cock. Enjolras didn’t seem to mind Grantaire’s tentative touches, and he hummed in contentment. The artist couldn’t believe his ears. He was already pushing his luck SO much tonight, but if he didn’t just TRY this, he would never forgive himself. He placed a gentle hand on Enjolras’s belly, and began to rub small, soothing circles, trying to ignore how painfully hard his cock was, angrily pulsing against his thigh. Enjolras actually fucking WHIMPERED at Grantaire’s ministrations, pressing his belly up into the artist’s hands. “Oh, that feels so good…” Enjolras groaned, and Grantaire had to bite his lip from moaning aloud. Enjolras wriggled backward in an effort to get closer to Grantaire on the mattress, and suddenly he froze. Shit. 

Grantaire’s heart dropped into his stomach. There was no way Enjolras didn’t feel his erection, poking against the small of his back. “Grantaire?” the blonde asked quietly.

Grantaire felt his cheeks flushing in embarrassment, rolling away and burying his face in the pillows. But his Apollo was never one to let things go: he rolled over behind him, belly pressing against Grantaire’s back. Grantaire whimpered as another shameful surge of blood made his cock wriggle. His face was hot, he was certain he was going to gnaw through his lip, and he felt as if he were close to tears. “Grantaire, what is it?” Enjolras asked soothingly, concern in his voice.

Grantaire refused to pull his face out of the pillow. “Enjolras, please…please pretend this never happened. Don’t make me tell you how much of a freak I am…” he shifted his lip between his teeth, thinking he might be tasting blood. “I don’t want you to hate me…” he whispered, voice cracking.

Enjolras sighed, pulling him closer, “Grantaire. Do you know me at ALL? I could never hate you. Never. I just want to know what’s wrong, and…why...”

Grantaire swallowed and turned to face him. “I don’t know how to…I’ve never told anyone before…”

His Apollo nodded, brushing a strand of jet-black hair behind a very reddened ear. “It’s okay. I’m not going to judge you.” He inched even closer, his rounded belly pressing against Grantaire’s flat one in the process. Grantaire mewled helplessly in shame as he felt his cock twitch against him. Enjolras paused, realization flickering through his eyes. “Grantaire…” he said softly, before experimentally rubbing his belly against his cock, and sure enough, he felt it jump against him again. “Does this…turn you on?” he asked, almost in awe. “Me…like this?” he gestured to the swell of flesh that had overtaken the chiseled planes of his stomach.

Grantaire nodded, trying to ignore the lump in his throat, and the tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. “Yes…” he replied, barely a whisper. “I’m a…a feeder.” It was the first time he’d said it out loud, and the word felt strange on his tongue. 

“A…feeder?” Enjolras tried the word out, looking up at Grantaire. “I’m afraid I don’t…I dunno what that means.”

Grantaire sighed. He’d admitted this much. He might as well go all-in. “It’s a…kink, I guess. A fetish. I don’t NEED it to get off, but sometimes I fantasize about it. It means I…it means that this drives me wild,” he shuddered, letting his hand wander over Enjolras’s swollen belly, daring to give it a light squeeze. “It means I want to feed you or watch you eat until you can barely move, and then rub the pain away for you: worship your body. It means I want to stuff you so often that the effects are apparent, even when you’re empty.” He swallowed, thinking he might need to clarify. “It…it means I want to watch you gain weight- not even a lot, just…a little bit- and I want to feel you get softer, and I want to see your belly stick out when you sit down, and push against the waistband of your jeans, and I want to feed you until it’s nice and round, and I want to roll it in my hands, and…and…oh, GOD, I’m such a freak. I’m so sorry. Forget I said any of this. Please…” he whimpered, turning even redder, burying his face against Enjolras’s neck.

Enjolras looked at him curiously for a moment, then let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Grantaire…” he said softly. 

When he got no response, he pressed against him, just a little, and Grantaire stiffened, drawing in a gasp. “Is that…are you…” he stammered, eyes wide in disbelief.

Enjolras nodded, rolling his hips up again, his rather obvious erection brushing against Grantaire’s hip. “You know I’d be willing to try anything that makes you happy,” the blonde said, softly. “And that….that actually sounds…” he blushed. “Really hot.” He let one hand ghost down across his own belly. Grantaire gaped at him. 

“I…WHAT?”

Enjolras nodded. “Yeah,” he replied breathlessly. “And you’re right. I don’t eat enough. Especially during exams. I can’t be trusted to feed myself- I get too caught up in other things. Maybe that should be YOUR job from now on,” he said softly, kissing at Grantaire’s neck.

Grantaire froze, his heart hammering against his chest. “Don’t tease me, Enjolras. Please. You don’t know what I want to DO to you…”

The blonde grinned against his skin. “I’m not,” he said simply. “And I can GUESS what you want to do. You want to feed me; you want to get me fat, right? Stuff me so full that you practically have to carry me to bed? You want to rub THAT-“ he palmed at Grantaire’s erection- “Against my belly until you come?” Enjolras felt himself grow harder at his own words. This particular avenue wasn’t something he was familiar with, but dirty talk was, and he enjoyed the effect it seemed to have on his boyfriend

Grantaire felt as though he was about to faint. All he could do was nod feverishly in response. 

“Alright,” Enjolras purred, kissing the cynic’s neck.

“W-what?”

“I said, alright. We can try it. We both know I don’t eat during exams week. There’s two months until my summer exams. I’ll give you those two months. Feed me as much as you want. As often as you want. Fatten me up. That way, I’ll have quite the reserve when exams roll around, and I inevitably neglect to eat again.” He smirked. “Besides. If I decide I don’t like it, it’s a reversible condition. But I want to try. For you. Because fuck, does that sound hot…” and it did. Enjolras was so used to being in control of every aspect of his life, that just letting go, surrendering his body to Grantaire in an entirely new way excited him.

Grantaire blinked, still in disbelief. “Holy shit, you’re serious. JESUS…I…well….okay. But if at any point you decide you don’t like it, you tell me. And we stop.”

Enjolras shook his head. “No. Two months.”

Grantaire bit at his lip. “Two months is a lot of time, Enjolras. If you’re really serious about this, we need to discuss boundaries. There are technicalities. I mean, do you actually WANT to gain weight? Because you don’t have-“

“No. I do.” He said firmly. “I told you. Fatten me up. Don’t hold back.”

The artist sighed. “It’s not as simple as that, Enjolras. I could feed you with only the goal of stuffing in mind, and you would gain a little bit of weight as a byproduct. Or I could feed you with the goal of gaining weight in mind, and you would gain a lot more, a lot faster.”

Enjolras peered at him. “How much?”

“I don’t know, I’ve….I’ve never done it…you need to tell me how far you’re willing to take this. You need to set a boundary. I mean, what? Five pounds? Ten? Fifteen?” 

Enjolras thought for a moment. “Well. I’m 6 foot, and roughly 150 pounds. Which, if I am correct in saying so, puts me in the category of underweight.” He calculated the numbers in his head. “30 pounds.” He said thoughtfully.

Grantaire nearly choked. “Thirty pounds?! As your limit?!” he thought he might come from the thought alone.

Enjolras shook his head. “No. As my goal.”

Oh, FUCK, that was it…Grantaire bit his lip and mewled as he felt the knotted coil in his stomach shudder and unfurl, a hot wet spot spreading across the front of his jeans. His face heated with embarrassment. He hadn’t come in his pants since he was a fucking TEENAGER. Enjolras just smirked before sliding out of bed to fetch him a towel. “I’d say you’re amenable to those terms,” he chuckled, pressing a swift kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire and Enjolras begin to explore the new dynamics of their relationship, and the limits of Enjolras's body. Changes start becoming noticeable, and Enjolras finds that he enjoys it almost as much as Grantaire does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...erm. New chapter? *throws and runs*

Enjolras sat impatiently in his chair, his wrists tied loosely behind his back. It had been his own idea (“I’m not going to tie you up, Enjolras. It’s too much. It’s not necessary.”) to tie his hands, because he wanted to give himself over to this completely. To allow Grantaire total domain over him and his body. Enjolras had insisted that they order a pizza, so that Grantaire wouldn’t have to go to the trouble of cooking so much again. (“Really, it’s no trouble. I can make anything you want…” “And if I want pizza?” “…I’ll get the phone book.”) And now, standing before him, Grantaire looked…different. The glint of self-assurance that had always inhabited his eyes was gone, and for the first time in their relationship, Enjolras saw him look truly doubtful. “Do I get to eat that, or are you just going to let it get cold?” the blonde asked with a smirk, prodding Grantaire to get on with it. It wasn’t so much that he was hungry, but he wanted to try this again. Although last night, there hadn’t been a goal in mind. Tonight there was, and that excited Enjolras more than anything else. 

Grantaire blushed scarlet at his question. “S-sorry…I’ve never…I mean, I…I’ve always dreamed of this, but I’ve never actually…done it.”

Enjolras smiled kindly. “It’s alright. You forget that this is my first time, too. You’re going to be fine. We’re going to be fine. Now, come on. Feed me like you’ve always wanted to.”

That was all Grantaire needed, and he was opening the cardboard box, picking up a slice of greasy pizza, and folding it in half. Enjolras opened his mouth obediently, and as it was held up to his lips, he greedily swallowed it down, chewing only as much as necessary. “More,” he said, looking up at Grantaire with a fire in his eyes.

\--

“Come on, Enjolras…only one more slice to go,” Grantaire cooed, rubbing away the discomfort from his Apollo’s already-swelling belly. “I know…” Enjolras breathed, unintentionally pressing up into Grantaire’s hand. He hadn’t expected to feel so…firm. He hadn’t expected the feeling of being fed past his limits to be so enjoyable. So enjoyable, in fact, that everything from his rib cage to the tops of his thighs was quite firm: his arousal poked at the underside of his distended stomach, which had yet to be released from the prison of his jeans. Instead, it strained against the waistband, begging for release. He took as deep of a breath as he was able. “Okay. I’m ready. Give me the last piece.”

Grantaire nodded, almost in awe, as he held the last slice up to Enjolras’s lips, pushing it gently into his mouth. The other man yielded, and after a few moments, the pizza was gone. Grantaire wiped his hands off on his jeans and knelt between Enjolras’s knees, pushing them apart to crouch between them. The blonde was sitting back in his chair, looking exhausted, his head tilted back in a mixture of discomfort and pleasure. Grantaire slid his hands slowly up the tops of his boyfriend’s thighs, sliding up over his bloated stomach. “You did so well,” he purred, rubbing soothing circles before pushing his Apollo’s shirt up, and pressing reverent kisses to the swollen flesh. Enjolras whimpered, and the artist was almost certain that it wasn’t from pain. “Why do you have to be so good at everything you do, Enjolras?” he murmured, slipping his fingers down to the button of his jeans and setting him free, his belly pressing forward, and Grantaire resumed his kisses, massaging as he went. “Look how big you got for me,” he marveled softly, and Enjolras hummed his approval, feeling his cock stir against the underside of his belly. Grantaire noticed, and his eyes went wide. “Enjolras, you’re….you’re…” he gasped, looking up to search his face. “You’re really enjoying this?” he sounded as though he couldn’t believe it, letting his fingers trace over the curve of his belly, the definite shape of his erection, as a shudder passed through Grantaire’s body. “Oh,” he said simply.

Enjolras smiled. “Of course I am…it feels good. Being taken care of like this…being fed like this.” He blushed a little bit.

Hungrily, unable to stop himself, Grantaire tugged Enjolras’s jeans down his thighs, leaving all of him exposed. He kissed voraciously across the surface of his bloated tummy, until…”AH! Grantaire…”

Enjolras looked down, to see his cynic’s nose, eyes and forehead watching him over the curve of his belly, which blocked from his view the devlish grin that Grantaire’s lips formed around his cock. The artist closed his eyes and began sucking in earnest, swallowing him down to the root.

When finally, he pulled away, the evidence of Enjolras’s release shining around his lips, he grinned. “You might want to get some schoolwork done while you can, Apollo. I’m feeding you again before bed.”

\--

“It’s okay. Just lay back. The funnel makes it easier, I promise. Not to mention cleaner…”  
Enjolras simply nodded, lying back on the bed, his stomach still swollen from the afternoon. “Whatever you need me to do,”  
Grantaire reached out to touch his face gently, meeting his eyes. “The funnel goes in your mouth, okay? And I’m going to hold it there. And you’re going to close your lips around it. And I’m going to pour this in,” he held up a half-pint of heavy whipping cream, “Until it’s all gone.”  
Enjolras nodded, but couldn’t help but ask, “Why whipping cream? Why not more food?”  
Grantaire smiled. “Because it’s heavy. And it’s dairy. And your body can’t process that very quickly while you’re sleeping. If you’re serious about gaining weight, I’m going to feed this to you before bed every night. Okay?”  
The blonde nodded. “Makes sense. Okay.” He opened his mouth again, letting Grantaire insert the funnel, and soon he felt the bitter coolness of the whipping cream trickling down his throat.

Once Grantaire had finished, they’d collapsed into bed, Enjolras feeling too full and exhausted to keep his eyes open. He fell asleep to the calming pressure of his boyfriend’s palm against him.

 

\--

It had been two weeks since they’d made their agreement, and the changes were becoming evident. Enjolras had walked into the kitchen shirtless one morning in his favorite pair of jeans, which now dug into his sides, and caused his softening stomach to pouf out over the button. Grantaire had nearly dropped his coffee cup.

Only days later, Enjolras had walked into the kitchen wearing a pair of Grantaire’s jeans. The artist raised an eyebrow. “Not that I’m complaining, but. Erm. Why are you wearing my pants?”  
“Because mine wouldn’t button,” Enjolras said matter-of-factly and with a smile, pouring extra cream into his coffee.  
Grantaire went from flaccid to rock-hard in a matter of seconds.

It seemed that Enjolras was enjoying the changes in his body as much as Grantaire was- he had stopped counting the number of times he caught himself sitting in class, absentmindedly playing with the softness that had collected at his midsection. Squeezing it, poking it, rolling it in his palms. It felt…good. Better than he had ever expected it to.

It wasn’t until the lightbulb burned out in their closet that his clothing became a problem. He reached above his head to change the bulb, affording Grantaire a rather gratuitous view of his softening tummy, but when he climbed down, the shirt hadn’t righted itself. Instead, it stretched tightly across his navel, leaving a small protrusion completely visible. Grantaire chuckled, and reached out to fondle the roundness poking out of the shirt. “I…don’t think you’re a size Small, anymore, Enjolras,” he smirked, feeling his cock jump against his thigh and begin to fill with blood at the thought.

Enjolras looked down and gave his stomach an experimental squeeze, his own cock stirring at the feel of it. He looked up at Grantaire, and rather than saying anything, he surged forward and caught him in a bruising kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. New chapter! *throws and runs*
> 
> Sorry for any formatting issues: I'm on my way to class.

After the first month had passed, the effects upon Enjolras’s body had become impossible to miss. It stood to reason then, that none of his friends had noticed a thing. No one said a word when Enjolras began showing up at the café wearing Grantaire’s jeans, which were becoming increasingly tighter. No one noticed the way he had to adjust his belly whenever he sat down to avoid discomfort, and no one paid any mind to the fact that Enjolras’s trademark red jacket seemed to remain unzipped at all times. No one seemed to perceive the fact that his thighs were growing closer together, or that the formerly flat surface of his stomach ballooned out over the waistband of his (Grantaire’s) jeans. At home with Grantaire, the stuffings were becoming a daily occurrence, as well as the nightly regimen of heavy whipping cream. They’d stopped using the funnel a week ago: instead, Enjolras would take the small carton and greedily drink it down, until none was left, much to Grantaire’s delight. He would fall asleep with his swollen belly in Grantaire’s hands, and a rather prominent erection poking at his back. Their sex life, which had admittedly always been satisfying, had managed to improve by leaps and bounds. Grantaire had always found his Apollo attractive, but now, it was almost unbearable. He regarded Enjolras’s body in an entirely new way, almost as an art form that he had sculpted with his own hands. Foreplay had become a myriad of ways to appreciate the blonde’s growing form, and it just so happened that Grantaire worshipping his belly turned Enjolras on just as much as it did the artist. His breath would hitch when Grantaire squeezed his burgeoning love handles between thumb and forefinger, and he would positively MOAN when the cynic mouthed at the thickening protrusion beneath his belly-button. When Enjolras found himself alone and wanting, he found that his erection, when adjusted correctly, fit perfectly into the crease beneath his belly, that formed whenever he sat down. In this way, he learned a new way to come, without ever touching himself. He just let himself thrust into that warm, plush heat, the softness of his belly.

He had yet to purchase new clothes: Grantaire’s were working just fine for the time being, and it aroused Enjolras in a very interesting way to wear clothes that were too tight for him. The way his ass and thighs strained against the seams of his jeans. The way the tight waistband made his stomach press out and over, leaving it free to jiggle with his movements. It was really a wonder that their friends HADN’T noticed, even if they weren’t the most observationally skilled people in the world. But they couldn’t remain ignorant to it forever.

 

It was a day like any other, as Enjolras, Grantaire, and their friends lounged around their corner of the Café Musain. Enjolras had shucked his jacket quickly in the warm café, down to nothing but a comfortably tight t-shirt, and a pair of Grantaire’s jeans buttoned up over his belly. It was uncomfortable, sure. But if he simply let himself hang out of his shirt in a way that was comfortable, he was afraid Grantaire might have a coronary. He excused himself from their table to fetch a cup of coffee for his boyfriend, and he sat back down with a faint pop, which seemed to reverberate off the walls of their corner. His friends fell silent and turned to look, and not one of them was prepared for what they saw. Enjolras, who seemed hardly fazed, had burst the button of Grantaire’s jeans, and his tummy swelled forward, poking out through the halves of zipper, pushing up the hem of the shirt, and practically sitting in his lap. Grantaire looked like he was about to pass out, though from arousal or shock, he wasn’t sure. Combeferre’s eyes widened, first in disbelief, then in embarrassment for Enjolras, and he turned away pointedly. Jehan gasped, his jaw dropping, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Courfeyrac looked like he was on the brink of laughter, but that might just have been the “Default” position of his face. Joly’s expression mirrored Combeferre’s, but took on a look of concern. Marius turned bright red and started coughing, muttering something about needing to call his grandfather, and excusing himself rather quickly. Bahorel and Bossuet, who were presumably sharing dirty jokes, hardly seemed to care, and promptly resumed their conversation. It was a long time before anyone spoke, and Enjolras, upon realizing his predicament, began attempting to button the jeans back up. But now that his belly was out, there was no getting it back in. He sighed, settling for pulling the shirt over himself, but about an inch of his stomach still stuck out at the bottom. Of course it was Courfeyrac who cleared his throat to speak first. “So, Enjolras. When’s the baby due?” he asked, which earned him an immediate jab in the ribs from Jehan. “That’s not POLITE!” the little poet hissed. “He’s clearly gained some weight! He’s probably sensitive about it!”

At this, Enjolras shared an amused glance with Grantaire. “No. Not sensitive,” he said simply, with a shrug. “It was brought to my attention during my last exam week that perhaps I was a little on the thin side. Grantaire and I are simply testing a hypothesis that exams week might not be so hard on me physically, if I were to have a bit of a reserve to draw from.” Grantaire nodded, for that was the only accurate way to affirm it, without drawing attention to the sexual aspects of Enjolras’s gain. 

“So this is…an EXPERIMENT?” Joly asked in disbelief, rising from his seat to examine Enjolras more closely. “I can understand a BIT of a reserve, Enjolras, but this is…this is…a LOT of a reserve.” He poked at Enjolras’s belly, causing the shirt to ride up even more. “I mean. Are you planning on starving yourself for a month? Because it looks like…it looks like you’ve gained at least-“ 

“Fifteen pounds,” Enjolras finished. “I know. We keep track of it.” He shrugged. “I really don’t see the problem here. It makes me happy. It makes Grantaire happy. It ensures that I don’t keel over during exams week, as I am usually wont to do. Come on, Joly. I’ve always been underweight. You’ve said it yourself. Multiple times. I’d be happy to give you my height and weight to calculate my BMI for yourself, but I know for a fact that I’m well within the normal weight range. So if that’s the only concern anyone has…” he looked around at his friends, who all seemed too shocked to say anything. 

It was Courfeyrac who broke the silence, once again. “…Can I touch it?” Enjolras rolled his eyes and looked to Grantaire, who simply shrugged. “If you must, I suppose.” At this, Courfeyrac knelt by the side of his armchair, squeezing, kneading and poking at the protrusion of Enjolras’s belly, reminiscent of a little boy poking a dead animal with a stick. “It’s so WEIRD,” he proclaimed, almost in awe. “It’s like…playing with Play-Doh. Only…not.” 

Enjolras rolled his eyes and swatted Courfeyrac’s hand away. “That’s enough,” he sighed. “I understand this may seem foreign to you, but it isn’t a plaything.”

“To anyone except Grantaire!” a voice piped up in the background, presumably from Bahorel or Bossuet. Grantaire responded by throwing a handful of sugar packets in their direction, but even he couldn’t hide the grin plastered across his face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi there! As you can see, I'm updating.
> 
> This chapter includes teh secks.
> 
> *throws and runs*

It was a rare day indeed, wherein Grantaire had class, and Enjolras didn’t. Apparently, his something-or-other politics lecture had been cancelled, but Grantaire didn’t ask too many questions. He parked his car in front of their building and walked inside, carrying a large bag of Chinese food up the stairs. “Lucy, I’m hoooome!” he called in a cheesy Spanish accent, setting the bag on the kitchen table. No answer. Hmm, that was weird. He went to go get the silverware (for everything Enjolras excelled at, he couldn’t use chopsticks for the life of him), and noticed that one of the cabinets was empty, too. 

Huh. 

He put the silverware down and went to investigate. Enjolras wasn’t taking a shower. He wasn’t in their bedroom. When Grantaire peered into the living room, he almost had to do a double-take. He could hardly believe what he saw. Enjolras, fast asleep on the living room couch, surrounded by plates, food wrappers, and empty bottles. So, THAT was why the cupboard was empty, Grantaire reasoned. But perhaps what captured Grantaire’s attention the most was the massive swell of Enjolras’s belly, absolutely stuffed to the brim. Grantaire felt a twitch of arousal in his jeans at the thought of Enjolras, sitting on this couch while Grantaire was at class, stuffing himself. He also felt a twinge of jealousy that he hadn’t been the one to put him in such a state, but he ignored that, because this was just too HOT. He involuntarily licked his lips. God, Enjolras had actually stuffed himself so full that he fell asleep. There was no denying it, Grantaire was as hard as a rock now, as his eyes took in the scene before him. His gaze traveled lower, and it was as if an iron hand had gripped his heart. Oh, shit. Enjolras was HARD.  
Grantaire shook his head. ‘Don’t get too excited. It could just be a fluke. That happens to guys when they sleep…’ Oh, but _what if_? What if the act itself had made Enjolras as hard as the sight of it made Grantaire? He wanted to draw him so badly right now. Peaceful and sleeping, swollen belly ballooning out of an open zipper and from under a too-tight T-shirt... But even more than that, Grantaire wanted to fuck him. Until he was panting, and gasping and begging for more. A shiver ran through the artist, and before he could stop himself, he was crawling on top of Enjolras, pressing an open, heated kiss to his belly. “Mmmm?” Enjolras whimpered, still half asleep, shifting his pose. Grantaire took the opportunity to mouth along the sensitive underside of his protruding tummy, and THAT certainly woke Enjolras up. “Grantaire!” he slurred sleepily. “’ve been waiting foryu.”

“I can see that,” the cynic replied, almost reverently. “You realize that now I’m going to have to go buy more groceries?”

Enjolras nodded sheepishly, and Grantaire noticed that he still had a smudge of chocolate at the corner of his lip. He scooted upward to lick it off, only kissing Enjolras when his self-appointed task was complete. 

“I brought you dinner. Chinese food. Your favorite,” he purred after a moment, not being at all subtle about pressing his erection into the blonde’s leg.

Enjolras groaned weakly. “Oh, I can’t…I’m too full…Look at me, Grantaire…”

“Oh, I _have_ been looking at you,” he murmured, while he languidly sucked a hickey into his Apollo’s neck. “And how big you’ve gotten yourself for me,” Enjolras shivered at that, especially since Grantaire’s hand skimmed up and over his overly-sensitive belly. “Tell me how full you are,” the artist commanded gently, massaging small circles into the firmest part of his belly, in effort to alleviate some of the pressure.

“So full,” Enjolras moaned, trying to push his stomach forward into Grantaire’s hand to make him rub harder. “I ate so much…I feel so huge…It’s like I’m about to burst, and I can’t help it.”

“And this?” asked Grantaire teasingly, dipping his fingers below the waistband of Enjolras’s jeans to brush his rather prominent erection, drawing a sharp gasp from the smaller man. “What’s this from?”

Enjolras blushed furiously. “You know that I get aroused when I’m…when I’m like this…”

“I know,” Grantaire purred with a smile, nipping at Enjolras’s earlobe. “I just want to hear you say it. You get aroused when you’re…like what, Enjolras?”

“When I’m stuffed,” he groaned, trying to arch his back. “The more I eat, the bigger I get. And the bigger I get, the harder I get. It…it turns me on for some reason. And you were gone all day. And I missed you. And I was so hungry…So I started to eat. And I couldn’t stop. Until I could barely sit up to get more food. And then…and then…I started imagining you coming home to find me like this, and I…I…”

“And this happened?” Grantaire asked, gently squeezing Enjolras’s erection. The idealist nodded sheepishly. “Would you like me to take care of it for you? I could fuck you, if you like…” he whispered, and Enjolras let out a conflicted moan. “Oh, I want to…but I don’t know if I can…I’m so full, Grantaire…”

“What if I rode you? What if I rode you, and I did all the work?”

Enjolras looked as though he was about to give in. “Perhaps…” he said tentatively, but his body betrayed him, and his cock twitched under Grantaire’s hand.

“That’s a good enough answer for me,” Grantaire smirked, as he began trying to work the jeans off Enjolras’s hips. “Jesus CHRIST,” he huffed. “When did these get so tight?”

“If you think getting them OFF is bad, you should see my morning ritual in which I try to get them ON.”

After a fair amount of shifting and tugging, Enjolras was left exposed before him, and Grantaire’s mouth went dry. He was never going to get used to that sight. He leaned down to kiss his Apollo softly. “I’m just gonna go get the lube. I’ll be right back,” he murmured, before hopping off the couch and scurrying to the bedroom, returning with the half-empty bottle. He held out Enjolras’s hand and squeezed a fair amount into his palm. “Coat yourself,” he instructed softly as he rolled his own fingers in the slick liquid, reaching back to prepare himself just enough that this wouldn’t hurt. He found that he rather liked the burning sensation of it. As Enjolras watched his beloved cynic opening himself up, he reached around and under his belly to coat his cock with it, wanting, waiting.

After several minutes of careful preparation, Grantaire was hovering above him and sinking down onto his lap, and Enjolras grit his teeth and moaned as he felt himself enveloped by the tight, warm heat. “Move,” he hissed after a moment, and Grantaire obediently began to bob up and down on top of him.

“Mmm. I like this position,” the dark-haired man said after a few moments, reaching down to frame Enjolras’s belly with both hands, squeezing and rubbing gently. “Not only do I get to see you, but I get to feel you. Feel how full you are. How big you’ve gotten…god, you’ve gotten so big, Enjolras. I can’t believe you can’t even fit into my jeans anymore. You don’t do anything by halves, do you? You decide you’re going to major in political science, and you get straight A’s in everything. You decide you’re going to fatten up for me, and you stuff yourself into a coma when I’m not home. But I bet politics don’t get you as hard as this, do they?” he mused, giving his Apollo’s rotund belly a gentle pat. “Who knows, maybe they do. This is you we’re talking about, after all,” he chuckled.

“They…don’t!” Enjolras gritted out between breaths, trying to restrain himself from bucking wildly up into Grantaire. 

“Oh, GOD, Enjolras…you have no idea how you _look_ right now…you look so fucking sexy. You look like everything I’ve ever wanted, all in one place. Oh god…I can’t- I’m not going to last long,” he warned, gritting his teeth, and reaching down to stroke himself.

“Hey,” Enjolras reprimanded, batting his hand away and taking on the task himself. “You’re doing me a service, here. Let me at least return the favor,” he smiled, pumping his fist, still slick from his own cock, over Grantaire. “You can last as long as you want. Or not,” he grinned, quickening his pace as Grantaire slammed himself down onto his lap. Enjolras tilted his head back against the couch cushion, panting, gasping…”Oh, GOD, Grantaire…c’mon. Come for me. Come on my belly. Come all over it, if you-“

But before he could finish his sentence, Grantaire was unraveling in his hand, his warm release painting Enjolras’s swollen belly, his hips hitching desperately on Enjolras’s cock, who followed him over the edge a matter of breaths later, his body melting into a puddle on the couch. “Oh my god…”

“That was-“

“GOD.”

“Yeah.”

“I know.”

“Oh my god…”

Grantaire laughed. “I’ll go get something to clean off with, yeah?”

Enjolras nodded, still trying to catch his breath. “Oh, and Grantaire?” he called after him, when the cynic had almost reached the door. “Remember to bring the Chinese food when you come back.”


End file.
